


how did we get here

by remuslupin



Category: Dane Gang - Fandom, Kill Your Darlings (2013), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE THIS TROPE SINCE THE DAY I WAS BORN HONESTLY, M/M, fake dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8459824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslupin/pseuds/remuslupin
Summary: harry needs a date for the oscorp gala. so, of course, he turns to lucien.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't posted since like ??? july or something, so enjoy whatever this is lmfao.
> 
> happy (late) birthday sky.

“you’re _doomed_.”

“i’m not doomed. _so what_ if i don’t bring a date?”

“ _you_ ? not bringing a date? oh, that’s laughable. you say that _now_ , and in three days you’ll have somehow convinced _another_ one night stand to go with you to the gala and inevitably involve you in some scandal that’ll put your face on the cover of OK magazine for the next five weeks. _again_.”

“since _when_ have i been on the cover of–”

“harry osborn, heir to the oscorp empire, has been caught out with yet _another_ one of his father’s secretaries–”

“alright, i get it–"

“harry osborn has been wrapped in the latest of many sex scandals–”

“ _where the hell_ did you pull those magazines out of–”

“harry osborn: is he secretly involved in an _extramarital threesome?_ find all the details on page three–”

“okay, _that one_ was fake–”

“harold osborn, i swear to god–”

“ _don't call me harold_ –”

“if you don't want to be called harold, then you shouldn't get involved in controversies that are magazine worthy! that way, the papers wouldn't have any reason to refer to you as harold, let alone _write_ about you at all!”

as spencer slams down yet another tabloid magazine onto the desk that you're currently sitting behind, you groan loudly.

“were there any specific _intentions_ behind this visit, or have you just come here to mock me?”

“i’m your publicist, i’m supposed to try and _stop_ people from mocking you.” she raises an eyebrow at you, now, and you barely even have time to register her all-too familiar body language before she's opening her mouth and allowing the inevitable jest that's aimed at you to slip from her lips. “you don't exactly make it _easy_ , though. how long has it been since you've kept a steady partner for longer than a week?”

an admittedly dramatic sigh passes through your lips as you lean back against your office chair and cross your arms defensively. “i don’t have _partners_ , period. they're too complicated.”

she stares at you with a deadpan expression. “that’s exactly my point. look, your father is coming back into town specifically for oscorp’s twentieth anniversary gala, and he wants the entire osborn family to stay out of the papers until it’s over. unless, of course, the article is talking about how _disgustingly adorable_ you and your new partner are.”

“what’s he going to do if i don’t find a _partner_?” you ask, spitting the last word out as if it’s actually offensive to you. “ _ship me out_?” it’s hardly as if norman hasn’t done it before.

“no. he _will,_ however, take away every single money source that you have and make you stay inside the penthouse until the gala’s over if you don’t.”

“ _what_?” this is ridiculous. “it’s not for another _two weeks,_  though!”

spencer ignores your complaints, and pointedly glances down at her watch. her next words are spoken at the same time that she takes a step back and gestures down at the magazines piled on your desk to prove her point. “look, i need to go. just– find someone who doesn’t look like they belong in a playboy magazine. someone _without_ any kind of reputation, alright? you don’t actually need to date someone, just find someone you _trust_ and ask them to do you a favour _–_ a friend, maybe.”

“you can’t be serious.”

“you know what a _friend_ is, yes? a person who you have a bond of mutual affection with?”

you don’t have time to even open your mouth again before she’s turning on her heel and speeding out of your office. letting out a frustrated sigh, you bury your face in your hands as the door slams closed. one thing becomes glaringly obvious to you almost straight away– none of your friends would _ever_ want to fake-date you (no one without a criminal record or celebrity-levels of fame, that is).

unless...

_______________

 

“–you want me to _what?”_

 you can barely even hear your own _thoughts,_ what with how loudly lucien is giggling. a deadpan glare accompanies the irritated flare of your nostrils, and you have to resist the urge to _bodily harm_ the bastard as he wraps his hands around his middle and begins to shake from the force of his laughter. you wait for another moment, arms crossed, before finally clearing your throat in (what you hope is) a commanding manner.

“are you done yet?”

it takes another four and a half minutes and several sips of coffee in between his laughter before lucien finally ceases his incessant noises. after wiping at his eyes amusedly, he finally blinks at you with raised eyebrows.

“since when does harry osborn need someone to _pretend_ to date him? _why_ do you need someone to _pretend_ to date you in the first place? i was under the impression that you didn’t have any lack whatsoever of suitors.” he pauses, tilting his head to the side with a thoughtful expression. “is the word for female suitors still suitors?”

you don’t know, and you honestly can’t bring yourself to fucking care. “that’s _not the point,_ lucien.”

“what _is_ the point, then?”

“i told my father we were dating,” you respond forlornly, voice coming out muffled from where your face has dropped onto the table and pressed into the sleeve of your shirt.  
  
“this is like a bad game of twenty questions where every question is the same,” lucien snorts, “do i even have to ask? _why_ would you do that?”

“apparently,” you mutter, pointedly ignoring lucien’s scrutiny, “norman is worried about _his_ reputation more than _mine_. he’d left me alone until now, but because of the oscorp gala, he wants me to get into a steady relationship. the ultimatum that he gave to my publicist was that i could either date someone seriously or not leave the penthouse at all until after the gala, and if i chose to go out anyway he’d clear out my bank account.”

“well, this doesn’t mean that we actually have to _date._ can’t you just use me as a cover until the gala’s over?”

“ _no._ my father wants to _meet_ you,” you wince.  “he wants to make sure that i actually _do_ have this mystery boyfriend who i’ve been talking about. i think he’s under the impression that i’ve brainwashed someone into dating me or something.”

“it’s not exactly a long shot,” lucien says, another laugh spilling out from his lips as he speaks. “i don’t think i’d believe it even if i actually _was_ dating you.”

“you’d be _lucky_ to date me,” you reply hotly. “i can have any guy i want with a click of my fingers, you should be _honoured_ to be my fake boyfriend.”

“there’s always an exception to every rule, osborn. in fact, i’m rather _disappointed_ in my pretend-self for fake dating you so far.”

you glare at him, but before you can express your annoyance in verbal terms, he speaks up again.  

“listen. as fantastically bizarre and entertaining as this whole conversation has been, i’m still not sure why on earth you think i’m going to help you out by going to this gala and meeting your father.”

“not just my father, and not just the oscorp gala,” you reply, feeling slightly sheepish and overtly pained at the confession. “there’ll be a dinner on friday with my father and his work associates, you’ll need to come to that, too.”

“so a dinner party, a round or two of ‘meet the monster-in-law’, and the main event?” lucien asks, squinting at you all-too suspiciously as he raises his coffee cup to his lips.

“i suppose..”

“and i would be expected to, what? show up, behave as well as i can, and leave? or are we going to have to put on a better act than that?” it’s awfully disturbing to hear the word ‘we’ come out of lucien’s lips when talking about the both of you.

“some hand holding, a kiss here or there, that’d probably do it,” you shrug, and lucien suddenly looks like he isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or vomit.

“oh. is _that_ what this is all about? admit it, _you_ just want to _kiss_ me.”

“like i’d _want_ to be kissing you if i had a choice!” you spit back hurriedly. “we’re talking about my freedom and my fortune here, lu, it isn’t like I’m looking forward to it.”

“well that’s good, because I’m not sure i could handle you telling me you actually wanted to kiss me. i almost want to bleach my lips preemptively as is.”

you groan in frustration again, running your fingers through your hair distractedly and leaving the normally neat look standing up on its ends and looking a bit wild. for a moment, lucien stares up at it with an amused expression, but offers no further reaction.

“let me get this straight. you’re asking for a few dates, plus hand holding and some making out here and there?”  

at the mention of _making out_ , your face turns bright red as you scramble to hiss an answer across the table at him as he glances out the window for a few moments longer than necessary with that small lingering smirk of his. “i meant a few _closed-mouth kisses.”_ the alternative _definitely_ isn’t something that you even want invading your nightmares.

as his smirk turns absolutely _devilish_ , you very visibly resist the urge to lean across the table and hit him. “we’re not twelve anymore, harry, i wouldn’t have expected you to shy away from something as meaningless as a _kiss_.”

and his tone is just so teasing, has such an air of _superiority_ , that you don’t even have to think twice about it before you’re leaning forward, grabbing lucien’s collar with both hands, and pulling him towards you. your lips knock together quite clumsily, and though it’s all awkward movements to try and get your nose in a comfortable position, you have to admit that lucien’s sharp intake of breath had made it all worth it.

a flash of a camera just outside of the window you’re sitting next to pulls you back to reality, and as you sit back with a rather dumbfounded expression, lucien fixes the collar of his jacket with a cattish smirk. “your technique needs work. but, i think i achieved what we needed to.”

the glance to the side, followed by incessant teasing. the camera flash.

“–you _set me up_ –”

“i didn’t set you up, that guy was already standing there when i saw him. if you want to refer to it as setting up _,_ then think of it as me setting _both of us_ up for an easy start to the _relationship_ , or whatever you’d like to call this.” he gestures between the two of you with a lazy hand, and lets out another snort of amusement as you continue to squint across at him. “he’ll sell that picture off to some tabloid, it’ll go into print and be a decent setup for our relationship, and you won’t need to worry about finding some extravagant way of introducing me to the public. come now, don’t you trust me?”

“yeah. about as much as i'd trust my _hair stylist_ to make a _suit_ for me.”

“i suppose you’d better start then, osborn. because we’ve just become partners in crime.”


End file.
